


Forever Hung Up on You

by leftennant



Series: Darcyland April Fools Smut Challenge Fics [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, ShieldShock - Fandom, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff, Smut, cape related problems, darcy should have listened to edna mode, dlafsmutchallenge, lil bit of angst, that's all I'm gonna say, vigilante!darcy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 11:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10592979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftennant/pseuds/leftennant
Summary: Darcy thought being a caped vigilante superhero would be fun, and it was.  Right up until she found out just why capes are a bad idea.





	

**Author's Note:**

> LAST DAY OF THE DLAFSMUTCHALLENGE! WOOOOOOO! I'm gonna preface this by saying this fic is complete nonsense, and I didn't research the Chrysler building at all, other than to google the gargoyles. So I'm sure there are tons of inaccuracies. As usual, just squint and it should all be fine. Also, it was supposed to be all fun and crack, but then it kinda got away from me and angst happened. Maybe I'm just sad because it's the last day of the challenge. This has been so incredibly fun. Thank you to everyone who read, and reviewed, and left kudos. You guys are awesome. :D
> 
> Anyway, big love and hugs to amidtheflowers, who has been an incredible trooper all week, and not only wrote her OWN fic, but beta'd mine. She is a magical unicorn princess, and I don't know what I would have done without her.
> 
> ***************************************************

Sometimes in the life of a secret vigilante, a person runs into certain...predicaments. It kind of comes with the territory. However, Darcy Lewis was pretty damn sure that hanging suspended by her cape from the sixty-first floor of the Chrysler building probably took the cake as far as predicaments went.

She sighed, looking up at the eagle slash gargoyle thing her cape was caught on. It was just as ugly as the other four thousand times she’d looked at it in the past five minutes. Also like the other four thousand times she’d looked up at it, she was unable to formulate a plan of escape.

Climbing up was futile, her cape was too damn long, and she was afraid it would rip. Climbing down was also futile, as her stupid cape was not long enough to make a drop to the fifty-ninth floor balcony possible. Plus, she was at a weird angle, and there was no guarantee she’d actually land on the balcony rather than plunge to her death on the sidewalk below. Darcy was, in a word, fucked.

Honestly, this was no one’s fault but her own. She’d seen the Incredibles more times than she could count. If only she’d listened to Edna when she explained why capes were a bad idea. But the thing was, a cape just looked so _good_ on her. It was flattering, and swishy, and flapped behind her when she ran. Besides, Thor wore one all the damn time. So, really, Darcy figured Edna Mode was just being a killjoy.

Meanwhile, Edna Mode clearly knew her shit when it came to capes, and Darcy seriously regretted ever deciding that one needed to be a part of her ensemble. Right about the time that she came to this conclusion, there was an ominous ripping sound over her head. Darcy knew full well what that ripping sound was. It was certain doom. 

The ripping sound continued, and Darcy glanced up at the hideous eagle in alarm as she dropped a good six inches. Did she say she was fucked? Yeah. She was definitely fucked. And the worst part was that she hadn’t even come up with a good superhero name yet. Dead and nameless. It was tragic really. 

She never should have started up this vigilante gig in the first place. It had been a bad idea from the start, and Darcy knew it. The thing was, when your boyfriend was the Avengers’ most patriotic hottie, it could get a little boring sitting around at home while he saved the world. You started to wonder why he got to be out there having all the fun, and you sat at home watching Shark Tank on a Friday night.

Hence the new career as a caped vigilante. And really, up until the whole Chrysler Building situation, Darcy had been rocking the shit out of her new chosen profession. She caught bad guys. She saved little old ladies. She even foiled a really serious bank robbery last week. There was so much satisfaction in taking out baddies. It felt great, and Darcy totally got why Steve was so invested in his truth and justice gig with the Avengers.

Unfortunately, the Avengers weren’t a big fan of Darcy’s decision. Not that they knew it was her. She’d been very careful to wear a mask, and evade being seen by anyone on the team. The crimes she was taking on were way under their radar too. It wasn’t like the Avengers regularly prowled the streets of Manhattan looking for muggings or petty thieves. 

They were, however, prowling the streets looking for _her_ lately. It seemed that having an unsanctioned vigilante was trouble in the eyes of the Earth’s mightiest. Darcy found this a bit rich coming from them, considering they did shit all about Matt Murdock, and actually _encouraged_ the Parker kid, but whatever. She had a very simple plan, and that simple plan was to stay far, far out of their way. Stick to the small stuff. Get in and out before they could show up and catch her at it. So far it had worked perfectly.

All of that was over now. It would only be a matter of time before she was spotted by someone either in the building or on the ground. There was no way it wouldn’t make the news, and that meant her vigilante ass was grass. She wondered which Avenger would be dispatched to get her. Probably Sam due to the whole having wings thing. That meant Steve would find out, and God help her when he did.

Darcy wondered if maybe plunging to her death was a better option than dealing with a disappointed and reproachful Steve Rogers. He’d start with the Very Serious Face of Extreme Disapproval, move into an equally serious ‘talk’ where he expressed that disapproval in ways that made her squirm, and follow it up with one of his super-fun cold sulks. Darcy _hated_ the cold sulks. It meant days of cool glances and curt responses.

Or, you know, he could just dump her. That was also a possibility. She was trying really hard not to think about it. Maybe she could bribe Sam or something. Offer to do all his post-mission paperwork for a year if he didn't tell Steve it was her under the mask. Darcy was still working out her terms of surrender when Steve himself appeared on the balcony below her.

“Shit,” she muttered. There went her plan of bribing Sam into not telling Steve who she was.

Steve was staring, eyes working their way down from the mask over Darcy’s face, to the knee-high boots on her feet. She noticed that he took his own sweet time checking her out. Especially when he got to her legs. The very same legs that had been wrapped around his hips just the night before. Steve’s eyes narrowed, and she knew without a doubt that he was frowning under his cowl.

“Darcy?” he asked, disbelief tinging every syllable.

Darcy thought fast. Maybe she could bluff her way through this, let him help her down, and then use something on her utility belt to escape. She still had that grappling hook thing she’d filched from Stark’s lab. It was worth a try, and really, what other options did she have? So she gave it her best shot.

“Who?” she replied, forcing her voice down into a lower register. “I think you have the wrong person. My name is…” _Shit_! She should have decided this before she started talking. Darcy looked around frantically, trying to find inspiration. All she saw were the other skyscrapers filling the skyline. In absolute desperation she picked the first one she recognized and said, “My name is, Empire...ra. Yeah. Empira….Park...Avenue.”

Steve rocked back on his heels, the disbelief on his face quickly turning into, well...disbelief of a whole other kind. Like utter and complete incredulity that she would pick such a ridiculous name as a cover. “Empira Park Avenue? Really, Darce?”

“Stop making fun of my name,” she retorted. “We can’t all be Steve Rogers. Maybe my parents are eccentric. Have you considered that, buddy? You don’t know. And anyway, they are lovely people. I’m offended on their behalf.”

“Your parents are Kent and Angela Lewis. They live in Ann Arbor Michigan, and we visited them last Christmas. Your mom knitted me a scarf with the Avengers insignia on it, which you steal constantly.” He sighed heavily. “Darcy, what the hell are you doing up there?”

She glared down at him, arms folded over her chest. “What does it look like? I’m taking in the magnificent views, obviously. What are _you_ doing down there?”

“Rescuing my girlfriend from herself,” he replied. “And once I’ve done that, we are going to have a very long talk about illegal vigilantism, putting yourself in mortal danger for no good reason, and lying to the people in your life who care about you.”

“Super. Can’t wait.” Darcy closed her eyes. This was going to be so much worse than she’d thought. He didn’t just look disappointed, he looked _hurt_. 

While she was pondering just how bad things were going to be, Steve scaled the window ledges next to her, climbed up on the gargoyle, and carefully towed her in by her stupid cape until she could reach up and grab his hands. Once he had assured himself that she wasn’t injured, Steve stepped back and gestured at her to explain.

“Well? Let’s hear it.”

“What’s the point? You’re still going to be angry. Can’t you just like, yell at me and not talk to me for a week or whatever without me having to waste my time telling you why I did it?”

“That’s hardly fair, Darcy. I just hauled your ass up from the brink of death. I think you owe me an explanation.”

“Fine. I got tired of sitting around twiddling my thumbs while you were away saving the world, so I decided to try a little small scale world saving myself. I borrowed some tech from Stark, made a suit...which turned out to have one extremely inconvenient design flaw...and spent the past couple weeks kicking bad guy ass like a boss. And before you say anything about that, everything went swimmingly until tonight. Tonight was a total fluke, and I refuse to be judged on it.”

“You think tonight was the problem?” he snapped. “Really? Tonight. Not the fact that you’ve been sneaking around behind my back to take on criminals on your own, or that you could have been killed doing it?”

“Yes. No… I don’t know. Maybe.” Darcy’s eyes prickled with tears, the gravity of her close call with death suddenly descending on her like a ton of bricks. “I’m sorry, okay? It was stupid. _I’m_ stupid. Is that what you want to hear, Steve? I did something risky, and dangerous, and didn’t ask you first. Except you constantly throw yourself into situations far more risky and dangerous than what I’ve been doing, and I’m just supposed to go with it without question. I don’t know if you think that’s easy, but it’s not. And I was _good_ at this. Really good. I helped people, I made a difference, and it felt amazing. I would think you of all people would understand that.”

“Darcy,” he said in a slightly less angry tone, “why don’t you take your mask off and we can talk about this face to face.”

She snorted. “Why? You’re still wearing yours.”

Steve immediately undid the buckle on his cowl, and pulled it off. “Better?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t what I meant. You know what? Thank you so much for saving my life, Cap, but if it’s all the same to you, I almost died tonight, and I think I’d like to go home. I need to process.” She walked past him, through the doors and towards the elevator. 

“We’re not done here,” he said, turning to follow her as she pressed the button to call the elevator, wishing to God that it would come fast. “Not by a longshot. You can put a pin in the conversation right now, but we’re coming back to it.”

“Told you the mask was still on,” Darcy said as she stepped into the elevator, cape fluttering brokenly behind her. “When you’re ready to talk to me as Steve my boyfriend, and not as Captain America, authority on everything, you let me know.” Before he could reply, she slammed her hand on the button to close the doors.

*********************************************************************

It had been three weeks. Three weeks of crying, enduring Steve’s silences, and sleeping curled up and alone on her side of the bed. Darcy was miserable. She had just wanted something she could call her own, and yes, she’d hidden it from him. That was wrong. She was sorry about it now, but it didn’t change the fact that it wasn’t that far off from what he did every day. She loved helping people. She missed it. And now she missed Steve too.

Having nothing kind of sucked. Her super suit was retired, hanging lifeless on its hanger in the back of her closet. The stolen tech had been returned to Stark. The news no longer contained grainy images of Darcy leaping from tall buildings, or swooping in to save mugging victims on the street. Manhattan had forgotten her. That sucked as well.

She had been moping around in the common room, sipping a cup of coffee that had long gone cold, when she decided maybe it was time to get rid of the suit. It wasn’t like she’d ever wear it again. Knowing that it was there serving no purpose only served to remind her that she was also serving no purpose other than her freelance hacking for Stark. 

Darcy decided she’d put it off too long. Getting rid of the suit would be like closure. Maybe then she and Steve could sit down and talk like rational adults, and either fix things or end them. It seemed like a plan, or if not exactly a plan, at least something. Tossing the suit would break her heart. Except it was already kind of broken.

So she made the long walk back to their apartment at the end of hall. It was quiet when she got there, seemingly empty. Darcy headed into the bedroom, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw what was on the bed.

It was her suit, all laid out with her boots sitting neatly on the floor beside it. One small alteration had been made, and Darcy ran a finger along the shoulder seams where the cape no longer hung. Footsteps sounded in the hallway as she examined the perfect stitches. Moments later, Steve spoke.

“I talked to Natasha. She said it would be more streamlined this way. Less chance of you getting into trouble like you did the other week.”

Darcy’s heart began to pound in her chest at his words. Without turning around, she said, “That doesn’t matter though, right? It’s not like you want me to wear it.”

“Maybe it’s not about what I want,” Steve replied. “Maybe I had some thinking to do regarding what you would want. So, I have to ask you, Darcy. Is this something you want?”

“Yes,” she whispered, swallowing back a lump in her throat. “More than anything.”

She finally looked over at Steve, and he nodded. “Then we get you the training. _Proper_ training. We get the tech back from Stark. We make sure that when you go out there, you’re prepared, and safe. Is that acceptable to you?”

“Yes,” Darcy said again. “It’s more than acceptable. Steve, do you mean it? You’re okay with this?”

“Are you okay with me facing down deadly robots, and walking into HYDRA strongholds armed with a shield?” he asked wryly.

“I wouldn’t say I’m okay with it, because I worry my ass off the whole time. But I trust you. I have faith that you’ll walk back out again, and come home to me.”

“Then I’m going to have that same faith in you. You do what you need to do, but Darcy, I expect you to come home to me in one piece. That’s not something I’m flexible on, do you understand?”

She gave a relieved huff. “I promise.”

Steve grinned. “That’s my girl. So, does this mean you’ll start talking to me again? I’ve been missing you, Darce.”

“I’ve been missing you too. You have no idea how much.”

“Oh I think I have a pretty good idea. So, are the alterations okay? I uh, I had them add a few utility pockets when they removed the cape. It shouldn’t change how it looks much.”

“Are you kidding me?” Darcy said, still elated by how things had turned out. “They’re great. I could totally use more pockets. Thank you so much.”

“You want to try it on and make sure?”

“Yeah, okay. That would be awesome. Give me just a sec to get it on.” She was just about to turn and get the suit when she saw something in Steve’s eyes that had her halt in her tracks. She knew that look. Knew it intimately, in fact. And it only ever meant one thing. “Steve? Do you have a _thing_ for my super suit?”

He glanced away, scratching the back of his neck almost bashfully. “I uh…”

“Oh my God! You do! Wait, wait, wait. Does this mean that when you found me up on the Chrysler building you were thinking about sexing me up?”

He attempted to look scandalized, and failed utterly. “I was thinking about saving your life, Darcy.”

“Uhuh, and when you got me back down on the ground? What about then?”

A sheepish smile began to tug at his lips. “Well…”

“Steven Grant Rogers, you are unbelievable. You were giving me shit about my vigilante stuff, and the whole time you were thinking about getting under my super-skirt. Admit it.”

“Why don’t you just put it on, and I’ll show you instead.”

Darcy shook her head at him, fighting back a grin. “Nope. No way. This was just dry cleaned. And anyway, you know full well how hard it is to get it on in a super suit. We’ve tried plenty of times with yours. That fabric is absolute hell to work around. However,” she said noticing his shoulders slump a little in disappointment, “the boots are totally a thing I could do. Interested?”

“Darcy, interested doesn’t even cover it.”

A short time later Darcy found out just how much ‘interested’ didn’t cover it, when Steve had her bent over their kitchen table, one hand between her legs working in tandem with his thrusts. It was good. Very, very good. Better even than being a caped vigilante.


End file.
